Death Is Unbreakable
by The Supreme Failure
Summary: Gwyn, Lord of Cinder lay dead at the Chosen Undead's feet, his body merging with the ash of the wasteland surrounding them. With that, it was over, and he could finally feel the embrace of death. Or, that's what was supposed to happen, things could never be so simple. Perhaps, he thought, it's better to hollow than live in this nightmare...
1. Death, Broken

For the first time in an untold number of millennia, there was a sound in the kiln of the first flame, the tomb of the Chosen Undead.

A cough.

And with that cough, a millennium of silence came to an end

It was a simple thing truly, indeed it was nary even audible, but even so, it shook the kiln like the mightiest of roars after an eternity of stillness. Ash scattered from the ceiling and walls like a winter storm, filling the pitch-black ruins with a thick smog that couldn't be pierced by even the keenest of eyes. Soon that single cough was followed by another, then another, and another until the prior quiet was cannibalized by a series of hacking coughs that further obscured the room.

His breath rattled with death in every feeble gasp that escaped his scorched lips, but such a thing did not come easily for one like the Chosen Undead. Even as the coughing grew more violent and the debris in the air threatened to smother him, that rattle didn't cease.

He was stubborn like that. Even when it became apparent that the smog was going to choke him he didn't stop until it was nearly too late. He clasped his mouth shut and forced himself to stifle the choking, to stifle the dying, and even as every fiber of his being demanded for it to continue he forced himself to resist, to resist his pesky instincts. He didn't know how long he had waited, after a while traveling in Lordran one's perception of time could be… distorted to put it lightly, but eventually, the storm of ash in the air settled, and he slowly, cautiously rose. The ash that had settled on him and painted him an off white fell from his body, as he let out a soft series of coughs that forced ash from his throat.

With one final cough, he forced his broken body to stand straight once more before he glanced across the room, or that's what he attempted to do. Something was wrong, that much was certain, the kiln was blacker than black. His scorched hands tightened into a fist, as he channeled his soul into it, birthing a flame that...

Didn't illuminate a thing. Not a damn thing.

He let out a growl only for it to turn into another series of hacking coughs, what the hell is going on here, he thought between them. He stifled the coughing, as he tried calming himself.

Breathe in.

Something was off.

No, more than off, something was terribly wrong. The air itself seemed almost angry, as it burned his throat with each breath taken. It reminded him of Oolacile... With wide eyes, he intensified the flame, pushed it until it was as powerful as his shattered body could make it, but still, the darkness consumed him. Still, the abyss consumed him.

He couldn't even see his own feet.


	2. The Belly Of The Beast

How long had he been traveling through this stifling hellscape? He wasn't sure anymore, weeks maybe? Days perhaps. It was hard to tell when eternity in its simplest terms surrounded you, and maybe it didn't matter anymore. His shattered, scorched body and soul starved mind had trudged through the ash of the kiln until all that remained was a cancerous fog of darkness manifested and the equally draining midnight ooze that coated the ground. The air seeped into his lungs and tore them apart from the inside like a poison whilst the ground itself tore through his heels until blood traced his every step.

Why? That simplest of questions reverberated in his mind with every step, why couldn't he have just died? Why did an eternity of rest refuse to offer its respite to him when it had embraced everyone else with open arms? WHY?

"HeLLO?" He barely managed to screech, his frail voice cracking at the effort, "please, SOMEOne…" he tried to continue, tried to cry for help, but his throat tightened and bled from the effort.

His armor-clad hand reached up, gently caressing his charred neck, as a series of bloody coughs escaped his lips. He waited for a moment, though for what he wasn't certain. Some tiny little part of him clung to hope like a child clung to a toy in the dark… Between coughs, a growl escaped his throat, though the blood rendered it more of a gurgling noise, like the rattling in a dying man's breath. He should know better than that, he should know better than to hope for someone to save the day for him.

Stupid.

With that, he tried to continue his aimless journey in the darkness.

Tried.

His body failed him, as he doubled over, coating the corrupted earth under him with his crimson lifeblood.

Agony.

Darkness had long since seeped into his lungs, and like a ravenous beast, it was tearing him apart. The further it seeped into him the more horrible the coughs became, and the more blood escaped his body. This time was proving to be especially miserable, as the coughing didn't stop and the blood began to flow like a stream.

_So, this is how it ends_, he thought, _alone at the end of time..._

_you deserve it._

If this really was the end, what would come after he defied nature and his was flesh given life once more? Or... would he even return? The flames that breathed life into this world had faded, gone like his dreams of a pleasant life, so what would reanimate him? He weakly shrugged at the thought, as his body collapsed and his eyes shut. That wouldn't be so bad.

That was when he heard the howling.

He tried to focus his hearing, to try and sniff out whatever had caused the noise, but in the dark, he could only tell one thing, there was more than one of them. His hand tightened on his shattered zweihander, as he attempted to force his broken body to stand and enter something at least vaguely resembling a fighter's stance. He failed, the pain was simply too much, and his body collapsed once more, rendered a coughing, heaving mess at the effort. Even still he tried to listen to their movements, but all that could be heard were the avaricious howls of the savage beasts.

That was when his throat was torn out.

His flesh offered little resistance to the hunter, as it shattered bone and hooked its claws deep into his shoulder. Had he still a throat a scream would've escaped, as he forced himself to muster all the strength he had remaining to bring his elbow to the monster's face before its maw could find his crispy flesh once more.

There was a sickening crack, as bone from man and beast was shattered on contact. With a yelp, the monster pulled back, as the Chosen Undead swung wildly with his zweihander, though his weapon was little more than the guard now. The howls filled the barren wasteland and his ears. How many were there; he couldn't tell. Not that it mattered, he'd bleed out in no time.

Agony.

One of the monsters chose then to attack, as it latched onto his newly broken arm, tearing and gnawing until the bone was visible.

Rage.

Without thinking he hooked the monster's eyes with

Without thinking he stabbed the monster's face with his sword's parrying hooks, digging them deep into what he assumed to be the monster's eyes. It yelped like a dog, as he tore his weapon out, ripping its face asunder and bathing the ground in gore, forcing the assailant to let go of his now mangled, barely attached arm. That creature was massive, easily the size of a man, if not slightly larger, what the hell was he going to do? He tried to think of a way out, _surrounded, outnumbered, and outmatched, DAMN IT THINK!_

Another attacked, this time from behind, it dug its long claws into his stomach and chest before tearing into his shoulders.

_FUCK THINK BETTER!_

He reversed his grip on the remnants of his zweihander, as he began to violently stab the beast with the reckless abandon of a kicking doe surrounded by wolves. It yelped in both fury and agony, as the vice grip on his shoulders was loosened slightly. That was all the Chosen Undead needed, as he tore himself from the creatures gaping mouth, pivoting himself to face the beast. All he could see was its piercing red eyes through the impenetrable darkness, but that was all he needed to see. With both hands and all of his remaining strength, he sliced at those infernal eyes. Despite missing his mark, a horrible shriek escaped the monster when he nearly sliced its jaw off, but the shriek didn't last long. It was silenced when he hooked its throat with his weapon's guard and with both hands tore it out, drenching himself with blood.

He, however, suffered much the same fate when another of the monsters tore his head off, killing him, which was rather annoying.


End file.
